Page 250 of The Billionaire's Obsession: Florida

Maybe because you’re a cheating bastard!Did his girlfriend even know, or had Rick made up some fantastic story that the woman had bought into because she was young and naïve? “Did she know we were engaged?”

“I’d told her we were having problems. We were, Ally. You were gaining weight, and you came home every night smelling like alcohol, grease, and cigarettes from the bar. It wasn’t exactly good for our romantic relationship. You never had time for me. I needed you, but you were never there. So I slipped up. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but we were together five years. Do you really want to give all that up for one mistake? We should try again.” His blue eyes weren’t pleading or remorseful. His look was calculated and so were his words. “I was going to pay you back. I needed something to get me through until I started getting paid. I’d been thinking about us anyway. I think we could have worked everything out. We planned for years. It just got too hard having you gone all the time.”

Bastard! He’d needed the money to buy things to impress his new woman. No doubt he hadn’t thought for even a second about her until his girlfriend started having second thoughts. He’d all but admitted that.

She took a long, hard look at Rick. He was physically attractive, but the sight of him made her guts churn. This man, this unfaithful jerk, had been her whole life for years. Now, he wanted her to take him back? He wasn’t just an ass; he was sociopathic. “So you came running back here until you find another job and another woman to screw?”

“Ally, I need you. I didn’t realize how much until I didn’t have you anymore.” His eyes roamed her face and body. “You look good. Have you lost weight?”

She clenched her fists, trying desperately not to let him get to her. This man had been her life, her reason for existing, until he’d ruined everything.

He’s trying to make you feel guilty. He’s trying to get to you, make you feel like he’s justified because of your behavior.

Maybe she hadn’t been there every time he needed her, but she’d been working for them. “I worked my ass off for you, Rick. And I’m not responsible for you losing your job. And yeah, I let my appearance go because I needed sleep more than I needed a haircut or a manicure. And yeah, I gained a few pounds because I didn’t have time to work out or watch my diet. I was too busy worrying about you and what you wanted.”

“Ally, I regret—”

She held up her hand to silence him. “The only thing I regret is wasting five years of my life on you.” She yanked on the door and pulled it wide open. “Now get the hell out of my house.”

Rick shot her an angry look, no longer hiding behind his remorseful façade. “You’ll regret this, Ally. We built a life together. You were trying to get me back by making me lose my position. But I’ll get another one, and you’ll hate yourself for not giving us another chance.”

“Get out,” she spat out angrily, her hand on the doorknob trembling.

Rick slowly walked out the door, shooting her a murderous expression. “You’re throwing everything away. Everything we worked so hard to get. You’re not so young anymore, and you’ve never been exactly beautiful. I was the most successful guy you were ever going to find.”

Ally slammed the door and bolted it, the wood hitting him in the ass on his way out the door. She just stood there for a moment, her whole body quaking with anger.

Why did his barbs still hurt? She didn’t feel anything but loathing for him anymore, but her mind was plagued with doubts.

You gained weight.

You never had time for me.

You’ve never been exactly beautiful.

I needed you. You never had time for me.

Rationally, she knew he was an asshole, but for some reason, his negative words still made her stomach roll.

One tear rolled down her cheek, and then another. And she wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Maybe it was because of the empty years she’d been with Rick, or maybe it was because of his manipulative comments meant to hurt her enough to take him back.

She sat on the couch, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. She’d gone from her verbally abusive alcoholic mother to Rick, and she could hear both of their voices in her head. Her mother hadn’t ever really had anything nice to say when she wasn’t in a comatose state, rambling on about how her father had died, leaving her with an unappreciative, ugly child to feed. Ally knew they were the ramblings of a bitter alcoholic, but they’d still shaped the way she felt about herself. And then she’d met Rick, and although he hid his criticism beneath a veneer of manipulation, his veiled disparagement had hurt just as badly.

Had she wanted to be loved so desperately that she’d been willing to take what Rick had to offer because it was better than nothing?

A strangled sob left Ally’s mouth, her tears falling more readily. Really, it all boiled down to the fact that shehadwanted to be loved. “He never loved me,” she whispered in an anguished voice. “And I don’t think I ever loved him.” Rick had used her, and in a way, she’d used him, too. She’d wanted to fill the aching loneliness inside her, and she’d fooled herself into believing that if she worked hard enough, if she gave up enough for Rick, he’d love her. “I’m a stupid, stupid woman.” She hadn’t loved Rick either. She’d just convinced herself that she did because maybe he was right. Maybe she had felt he was the best she’d ever get or that he was all she deserved.

Ally was openly sobbing when the doorbell rang. Choking back her emotions, she hastily swiped her palms over her cheeks, trying to hide her tears.

Travis.

Any excitement she’d felt earlier about an evening with her boss had fled. She didn’t want to go out with him. She didn’t want to see anyone. All she needed was some time to get herself together again. Seeing Rick had left her a mess, emotionally vulnerable. There was no way she could face Travis right now. Her emotions were too close to the surface.

She went to the door, but she didn’t open it. Checking the peephole, she could see Travis’s face. “I have to cancel for tonight. I’m not feeling well,” she called through the door in the calmest voice possible. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you sick?” Travis’s low baritone sounded concerned. “Open the door, Alison.”

“Can’t. I might be contagious. I’ll call you when I’m feeling better.” Her voice trembled, and she cursed herself for allowing her anxiety to creep into her tone.

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